Long Star wars Poems
Long Star wars Poems. Below are the most popular long Star wars by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Star wars poems by poem length and keyword.
In disaster and war movies
the protagonist (Queen) and her immediate circle
are protected from anonymous death. They may die (one by one or all at
once)
but someone at least grieves.
Or the audience is full of glee.
But in Star Wars (for instance)
what about the many hundreds of nameless, faceless soldiers
in body armor and visored helmets, or planetary citizens,
who fall by the dozens or more, like the leaves this rich fall. I think
no one thinks
how one of them may have had her first lover the night before
and one may be leaving behind two sons he read to last night
and loved with all his heart.
Neither belief in God nor being a god entertained
can explain or forgive this oversight.
Ah, how sweet
the film in which no actor dies or if they do
it's from their own disease or golden age.
People grieve for the soul that left
and celebrate the soul that flew.
I was in Providence for a conference,
a town I had thought insignificant, not a city to be considered
a city in flight. But that night they lit
one hundred bonfires in the river running up through the streets and the
face of every girl and woman with her lover
by firelight was beautiful.
Had the city been nuked
by a terrorist or rogue nation I would not have minded dying there,
with them, that night. It is possible
to be several million strong
and every homeless man with a singing voice belong.
Yoda, Master of the Jedi Knights.
From the movie, “Star Wars”
Winners:DO
Losers : TRY
Trying is boring and so tedious,
Like list making, oh, my, how facetious!
Don’t buffalo your friends with the word, try.
Nor splash them with the false reasons, why!
Yes, it is unfortunately en Vogue if truth be told.
We cannot with our truth be bold!
Hiding like frightened ants from obvious reality.
Life does not work,with zero integrity!
Your word, is your most valuable asset.
If you don’t have it, my friend, you are naught.
And with no money, can it be bought.
Let us keep our word,so highly sought!
6/24/2021
Form:
My lightsaber can be a mood ring,
that is what makes it so powerful.
It is cathartic when you must swing.
Between lavender and aqua flexing,
never do two shades appear equal.
My lightsaber can be a mood ring.
There’s danger in emotions building,
be cognizant and keep them stable.
It is cathartic when you must swing.
A slash will leave your body stinging.
Keep the core temperature normal,
my lightsaber can be a mood ring.
The goal to be the last one standing,
your fire makes that unavoidable.
it is cathartic when you must swing.
I wield a weapon ever-changing.
Pick a fight? Mind the hue be careful.
My lightsaber can be a mood ring,
it is cathartic when you must swing.
My son was a kid in a room.
Tubs full of Star Wars figures;
Rancor Monster, Squid Head, Yak Face.
Admiral Akbar was a good guy
with a mother somewhere,
a fine woman though a bit of a trout no doubt.
but Snaggletooth with his blaster
was an irredeemable mother er.
Then, from a parallel universe,
Skeletor, Beast Man and Evil-lyn
drop from the outer rim of a boxed universe,
all arriving in a sullen haste to lay the room waste.
Evil-Lyn was hot. We kept her out of the carnage mostly,
but she was bad to the plastic bone.
My son tells me he has visions,
he sees leather-winged daemons.
I lie, tell him that there are no toy figures of those,
so they don’t exist.
On the floor, monsters are on a rampage
He-man is screwing up as usual.
For both of us
our only hope is in Optimus Prime.
Disney didn't expect it but Solo is a flop.
When it came to selling tickets, the second week saw a 61 percent drop.
In Solo, Lando Calrissian is a pansexual, even robots turn him on.
I hate to have to say it but the magic of Star Wars may be gone.
Certain people are angry because of The Last Jedi.
Leia was sucked into space and she didn't die.
Disney obviously knows nothing about outer space.
Criticism is something Disney doesn't want to face.
Disney thought Solo would be a massive hit but it's not.
Fans are angry and that is what caused the Solo boycott.
If you like The Last Jedi and or Solo, that's okay.
But Disney is very upset, they've had better days.
Yo,
I was in an empire, part of the rebellion,
I was luke and han solo,
Takin' photos, of a world in love with chedda'
Prayin' all day for things to get betta'
Askin' Yoda in the sky for some wisdom,
Sherley Chism, and Rosa Parks were my idols,
Strong, black, beautiful, brazen, blazen, amazen, silos,
Of a song my momma taught me,
Lift every voice, express my choice, and drop bombs of knowledge,
I went to college, battlin' brains insane with myopic fits of schizophrenia,
With my pen, rebukin' sins of the fathers,
Puttin grandma's in chains, and straight killen my father's manhood,
Knowin, we could, we should, we would strive higha,
Christ's fire ignites me,
I gave my life to the almighty,
Cause in my sight he, fought for the downtrodden,
Rotten souls oppressin' billions,
Takin' pills and smoken' pipes for just a moment,
Of escape from rapin' carpet baggas hatin' saggas,
But just 5 years prior,
I heard a man with mad desire, for a chryos explosion,
Straight fusion, taken hatred and morphin satan into fury,
Hope was his cure he, took his orders from the savior,
And he made a, believer out of me and my whole country,
All at once he, took the reigns of insane branes and made us lighter,
Like brighter, with a burnin' burden like phroto bagins in the shire,
I walk this ring, of light and dark within my conscience,
But after months this, whole thing is startin to make me higher function,
I got this unction, to tell you about a pending celebration,
Elation has caught hold and now a nation,
Is about to be free of race and miscegenation,
Straight up star wars in this joint,
Because the deathstar is destroyed,
I trust the force, and soon my boy,
Will have his moment,
On mountain's top and God straight smilin'
Stylin' profilin' cause yo, a change is comin'
Start Stumin' new songs, of like redemption,
Cause we makin' marley proud and I got shrouds of evidence,
This fence is fallin' like back in europe,
Like the moons becomin' suns we makin runs to polls and soon guns suns they will be smokin'
Mad open, people get ready,
Straight steady, kill Freddy, cause this nightmare on wall street is ova,
Move ova George W, and sing a new song,
Straight Star Wars!
(alternately titled: impossible mission goes awry
probably mortal enemy cast spell binding jinx)
Both mental versus
physical tasks necessitate
laser sharp attentiveness
triggered within blinks
similarly on par when people toast
momentary instance utter silence
before more'n one
wine glass simultaneously clinks
cheering hurray, especially
if delicate circumstance
incorporates telecommunications downlinks
critical vital communique transmitted courtesy
think outlier (christened
Saint Matthew Scott Harris)
with acute instincts
held hostage between warp,
and woof fifth of dimension
far away beyond where
outer limits exhibits kinks
nsync with twilight zone
dwell alienated ratfinks
resembling authentic animated
Doctor Seuss characters
where one after another
third eye blind winks.
Lame excuse told cosmic speck (me)
sending yours truly on wild goose chase
an underhanded way to rub
inept feeble poetaster punster
out webbed wide world existence
purportedly great eats boasted
deep inside black hole sun pub
must make posthaste
to nearest galactic grubhub
mission control haint made no flub
boot deliberately thought
ineffectual doling out futile drub
cuz mister flibbertigibbet (me)
ostracized from highly selective club.
The aforementioned synopsis and
ultimate banishment cheered with big bang
decreed courtesy kangaroo court
constituting beastie boy gang
think star wars movie,
where farcical charges trumped
offering accused two choices,
either to hang
suspended (think piñata) and beat
to (fictional) pulp
torturers obviously ignoring pang
of utter emasculation, but rather sang
a song of sixpence*
while downing flasks of vintage tang
crafty entrepreneur William A. Mitchell in 1957
phallic drinking vessels
resembling Chewbacca's oversize wang.
---------------------------------------------------
*Lyrics
Sing a Song of Sixpence
BY MOTHER GOOSE
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing—
Wasn't that a dainty dish
To set before the king?
The king was in the counting-house
Counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlor
Eating bread and honey,
The maid was in the garden
Hanging out the clothes.
Along came a blackbird
And snipped off her nose.
I wish I had a remote to control my thoughts
It would be great to change the volume, mute or source
If only I could change the negative thoughts channel to the sports channel.
Or even change the channel to Cartoon Network or Disney
Take me back to my childhood, when I wasn’t all sad and busy.
Things were free and all I had to do was chores.
Pause Jaws
Let’s watch Harry Potter or Star Wars
Sadly, I can’t escape my thoughts through Netflix or Hulu.
You can’t escape you.
These thoughts are a lot feels like I’m in quicksand
I think I need a hand
“How to escape?” I type on Google
But all I see is get help or find a therapist on Yelp
It’s overwhelming
I’m confused
I can’t breathe
Covid? Cancer? Google, this is the last thing I need…
With nowhere else to turn I look to you and your word
How foolish of me
You should’ve been first,
But you weren’t even first, second or third.
I need a cease and desist from my thoughts you see.
Can you hear me?
Please hear me I know your not a genie,
But help me.
Peace of mind is all I ask
I’m tired of taking pills so my brain can quiet down
My brain is like a hamster on a wheel
Nonstop until it needs to breathe
I think it’s time
I need a water break.
That big red button until the next day
Power off for right now brain
I need a break
You hear it all the time these days,
people talk of communities,
but then when you heard what they say
you can’t help but think it’s funny,
they don’t talk of where people live,
or of neighbors getting along,
it’s obvious that the lefties
are getting ‘community’ wrong.
They speak of the ‘black’ community,
and rail about it all the time,
as if somehow your skin pigment
means you all have a common mind,
That if two people with dark tints
are seen out walking down the street,
that they must have something in common,
how else could it be ‘community?’
But that one guy is a doctor,
grew up middle class in a suburb,
and is quite obsessed with Star Wars,
and other stuff favored by nerds.
The other one’s a drug addict,
a sob-story clipped from the news,
he grew up without a father,
he grew up beaten and abused.
Do they go to secret meetings
with other people of dark shades?
Do they agree on what to believe,
or even live in the same state?
I think they are just two people,
different as two people can be,
the fact that their skin tones are close
doesn’t make them ‘community.’
They speak of the ‘gay’ community,
and obsess of that three percent,
as if there’s some great unity,
amongst ranks of gents who like gents.
But again the same fact comes up,
when you look at a person gay,
really, do any two of them
ever at or think the same way?
I’ve met gay men so flamboyant
you would think them a stereotype,
and others who love beer and sports,
normal guys, just different at night.
I’ve seen lesbians so masculine
they can out-bro the broest frats,
and fashionable ‘gay’ women
who dabble, then to men go back.
Am I to think all these people
can be rolled up in one lump sum?
That they care more for other gays
then for family, or straight loved ones?
I do not think it works like that,
the whole notion just leaves one vexed,
gayness isn’t a 'community,'
it’s just a fondness for the same sex...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Dearest Amelie Beth Harris-Mcgeehan
If royalty moost likely
spotlight ye would dodge
nonetheless anointed, deemed, granted...
within humble abode
of your lodge
most righteous, magnanimous, gracious...
among confrère noblesse oblige.
Methinks twas foolhardy of me
when joost a mere young man
(more'n half agoo me lifespan)
ye always acknowledging me birthdate,
(although tomorrow a day early,
and dollar long)
regarding thirteenth of Jan.
Your sisterly affection doth buoy
inside mine heart and soul
first born of three offspring
begat courtesy Boyce
and Harriet Harris handed lead role
par exemplar to officiate (figuratively)
filial obeisance, particularly
when older analogous to foal
abiding maternal horse sense, thus I extol.
As your brother, rhetorical question I ask
how often did thee deserve to bask
within metaphorical sunshine to exceed
regarding care and concern emotional task
tenderly "mothering" kith and kin,
ye divinely didst shew,
especially yours truly
now he dost rue
he rarely did communicate -
hermetically within his
hermetically sealed queue
detached, isolated, outsourced,
I may as well lived in Peru
(think Machu Picchu)
courtesy schizoid personality disorder
leavened, prepared, and sprinkled with
obsessive compulsiveness
for good measure ooh
and aah barely registered
consciousness, and knew
not what blessedness constituted hew
as tremendous precious jewel few
chore birthdays promise with clear clue
how ye go above and beyond
call of sisterly duty aware remaining life
(mine) would be far inadequate to accrue
equitable devotional, emotional,
and financial recompense.
Hence feeble attempt
to distill some essence
with words that appear
incomprehensible and dense,
cuz writing more comfortable
verses talking, which
often jabbering (more like a wookie)
(think fictional hirsute humanoids
in Star Wars universe)
often makes no cents.
Tempus fugit fleets at light speed
quasi immortality conferred as generations rebreed
all the while unwittingly transmitting indeed
idiosyncrasies, mutations, quarks... such as greed
myopia, selfishness... at death sorrow doth bleed.